


Stop using sex as a weapon

by 3White_Mage3



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:50:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not much to report. Jake and Cougar making a baby all night long.<br/>Started with the t-shirt idea and then tried to build a story backwards from it. Don't know if it worked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop using sex as a weapon

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get better at this writing thing by practice. Sorry you guys have to be along for the ride until perfection is achieved -- if ever -- but hope you find something to enjoy in this rambling smut (implied only).

One by one the team was gathering in the kitchen of the house off base that they now share when they’re not away on missions. After the night they had had, it was no wonder each person’s first stop was at the coffee pot to worship at the altar of caffeine. All because some a-hole had touched Jake’s ass at the bar last night. Afterward on the drive home Roque, being the Renaissance man he is, had said simply, “I thought you guys liked that shit”.

SOSOSOSOSO

The evening had begun pretty much as normal with the entire team going to one of the bars near the base frequented by Army in general and a few other special ops teams in particular. Captain Richard “Dick” Lombrano and his teammates were already at the bar and evidently already deep in their cups when Clay and his colleagues arrived. Lombrano’s team was one of the special ops groups that The Losers actually viewed as somewhat competitive – but falling short by a wide margin, of course, to hear any Loser tell it. The captain was known around base as having a thing for blondes. Everyone knew he was an ass man by reputation. The base underground rumor mill also hinted that the short, hairy, muscle-ridden officer didn’t care so much what kind of equipment was hanging or not hanging from the front. 

The Losers had taken over their usual booth with a few chairs pulled up, Clay and Aisha on one side, Jake, with his arm casually draped on Cougar’s shoulder next to him, and Pooch anchored the other side of the booth with Roque taking one of the chairs at the end of the table, and begun ordering pitchers of beer and bottles of bourbon for shots. Once the liquor started settling in, Pooch and Roque had wandered off to play pool with Roque hoping to attract the attention of one or more of the youngish women from one of the local factories who were hanging around trying to catch the attention of the military guys, willing to put out for the night in return for a chance at a ring on the finger and the hope of an eventual ticket out of this dead end town.

At one point, probably somewhere around 11 pm and right about the time that so much liquor had been ingested that even Roque’s throws were missing the dart board more than hitting it, it was Jake’s turn to wander up to the bar to collect the next pitcher of beer and another bottle of bourbon for his table. It was unfortunate (for the team) and fortuitous (for Dick) that Lombrano happened to be there. 

Cougar, who had spent most of the evening nursing his Cokes, discreetly holding hands with Jake underneath the table, and staring quietly from under his hat at everyone else, had come alive when Lombrano had turned toward his novio and begun chatting up the blonde man. Clay saw the sniper sitting hyper-aware, all his attention focused on the two men at the bar. The tension in the Mexican man’s body became even more acute as laughter filtered over to the Losers’ table from the two soldiers at the bar as Lombrano regaled Jensen with rapid-fire stories about recent missions.

If Clay’s higher brain functions hadn’t been slowly shutting down for the past 90 minutes he would have been smart enough to preempt the impending conflagration, especially when he heard the first low-pitched rumbling growl from his teammate across the table. 

Whether Lombrano had intended for his hand to brush over Jake’s ass or it was a nonchalant, innocent act, Cougar was out of the booth and crossing the room before Clay or Pooch could react. Within the next 60 seconds and accompanied by an explosion of noise that drowned out the bad hip hop pulsing from the jukebox, Lombrano was reeling backward with a broken nose, his teammates were piling onto the Losers, women of all shapes, sizes and intentions were scattering to get out of the way, and the bartender was calling either the police or the base MPs – probably both, Clay thought as he instructed Aisha to grab Roque and head with Pooch to get the car started while he fought his way to his teammates at the bar. Fortunately Cougar’s reputation and overall menacing glares in all direction had given Lombrano’s colleagues enough pause for Clay to grab his two colleagues and start heading toward the door while making ridiculously ludicrous placating gestures at the men threatening their retreat. It was a humiliating exit strategy but it worked and the colonel knew it was the right thing to do at the time. The last thing he needed was another run in with the local law enforcement and another command performance in the base commander’s office while he attempted to explain once again his team’s actions and why there was no need for the general to get involved in the actual disciplinary actions required.

After arriving back at their house and once everyone was sure they weren’t going to be blessed with a visit by either the police or the base MPs, the team began filtering off to his/her/their room having each received a prophylactic glass of water and three aspirins from their sniper. For anyone waking up at any point up to and including dawn, it was apparent that while they slept Cougar spent the night reminding Jensen who the blonde’s ass really belonged to. It was probably fortunate that several weeks ago Roque had moved out of his original room on the second floor with everyone else to a bedroom in the basement so that he didn’t have to “listen anymore to that sick shit from those twisted motherfuckers”. 

SOSOSOSOSO

Back in the kitchen Jake was the last member of the team to make an appearance even though they were all gruesomely aware he had been awake for some time if the very loud, very offkey, misremembered strains of Under Pressure – with the hacker singing both the Bowie and Mercury parts, of course – coming from the shower were any indication. Instead of visiting the coffee machine Jensen made his way over to where his partner was sitting at the table. With one hand on his lover’s shoulder he used the other hand to steal the coffee cup in front of the older man and drink it down, remaining completely unscathed by Cougar’s def con level 4 scowls, the ones known to have made other, stronger men mess their drawers. 

Probably because of their pounding heads and hand tremors, no one but Cougar noticed that Jake, notorious for wearing the loudest, most obnoxious, most neon and pastel combinations of clothing available by retail, was wearing a plain powder-blue t-shirt with no other colors and, as shockingly, no geeky phrases as for example the one bastardizing the Bible about how nerds shall inherit the earth.

It wasn’t until Jensen had gone to the counter to bring Cougar another cup of coffee that the others saw that Jake had turned the t-shirt around so that the design was in the back. There, in bright fluorescent orange was a large arrow pointing down to the crack of the techie’s ass with the words, “Baby on Board”. 

“Oh the hell no, that is some fucked up shit,” groaned Roque as he let his head slide back to rest on the table and the others simply laughed.


End file.
